


Blackout and Blindside

by Cryoflyte



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alcohol Withdrawal, Angst, Depression, Did I mention angst, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, More angst, Past Abuse, Savior Complex, Self-Medication, Suicidal Ideation, Swearing, adapted heart events, coping with loss (poorly), friends with unfortunate implications to actual friends to lovers, gridball bonding, implied 365-day calendar but who's counting (not me), it's my first fic here and i already have a tagging problem, just a couple disaster boys getting it together, medium burner setting or so?, minor supplemental worldbuilding, no smut just feels (and kissing), shamelessly uninspired surnames, there's fluff too, they may have a little reactive attachment disorder as a treat, this fic doesn't have a farmer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24264313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cryoflyte/pseuds/Cryoflyte
Summary: - He's a burnt-out former gridballer with depression, a goddaughter he's not good at caring for, and a serious drinking problem.- He's an orphaned wannabe quarterback with bigger dreams than muscles, still seeing glimpses of his abusive father behind every corner.They fight crime!...They do not fight crime. They mostly fight the past. And their own psyches. And occasionally each other. But anyway, they're gonna kiss... eventually.
Relationships: Alex/Shane (Stardew Valley)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 53





	1. Thrown Off (Prologue)

**Author's Note:**

> I am bad at summaries... and notes... and promising myself I wasn't going to ship anyone in this game, apparently. But please enjoy these two jerks who ambushed me!

Of course it had started with gridball.

Another spring day, another practice session. Alex had gone through his whole routine. But it was especially nice out, and he was feeling especially enthusiastic; he'd even tried to get Dusty to fetch a gridball. That had gone the same way it ever did, which was poorly. Laughing, he'd gone back to his own reps, throwing further into the evening than usual at the tire swing he'd set up on the big tree. His accuracy still wasn't _great_ , but his arm was strong, and he was seeing marked improvement since putting up the makeshift target…

"Who the hell taught you to throw like that."

Alex startled, picking up the gridball and turning. He couldn't immediately place the voice—he'd heard it once or twice before, was all. A low, gruff snarl that seemed perfectly suited for the hostile words.

"…I didn't learn," he said defensively, eyes narrowing. He'd basically picked up his form from studying TV as best he could. There wasn't a whole lot else _to_ do for it around here, but it had always been good enough. "I just do it."

"That," the man in the blue hoodie snorted, "is obvious." He was new in town, Alex remembered. There had been some gossip when he'd arrived over the winter… Marnie's nephew, wasn't he? He was living with her, anyway. The gossip hadn't lasted long, because he hadn't turned out to be very interesting. Just worked at the JojaMart then spent all night at the saloon. Nobody had ever seen him sober past six in the evening, and for certain no one had ever seen him smile.

Pelican Town didn't need another drunk, and they definitely didn't need one who was an unrepentant asshole. At least Pam tended to be cheery, as long as you didn't get in the way of her getting wasted. But here this dude was.

"What the hell's your problem… Shawn?" His most intimidating glare accompanied the words.

He glared right back. "I was just walking by, you're the one trying to blow your damn arm out. Give me that." He stalked up and roughly pulled the gridball from Alex's hands.

"Hey—"

"—Shut up and watch." 

It stunned him enough that he actually _did_ shut up and watch, taking a more careful look at the man as he did so. He was about a head shorter than Alex, and stocky; his baggy clothes obscured any semblance of muscles that might be there, but his movements were confident and fluid. Like maybe he actually knew what he was doing…

"You do _not_ throw from the arm," he was saying, his tone never wavering from impatient hostility. "You'll hurt yourself and it'll be a shitty throw anyway. You throw from the shoulder. Like this." He was demonstrating as he spoke, his stance a bit lower and more solid than Alex's standard, his off shoulder much more forward as he gripped the ball with surprising precision. Then he threw; the gridball spiraled cleanly through the air, through the tire swing in the distance, and dropped to the ground a good ten more yards beyond.

"…Whoa." Alex forgot what an asshole this dude was, for a moment. "Can you… do that again?" It got him a scowl, and he anticipated the protest; before Shawn could even voice it, he stepped back and pulled a spare gridball out of Dusty's pen.

It was always good to be prepared. He'd chucked a ball or ten in the river since he'd been here.

"…Fine. Give it here." He took the extra ball and demonstrated again, slower this time. "From the shoulder. And don't forget the follow through, or it'll _still_ be a shit throw." Alex scowled slightly—he knew _that—_ but when the second demonstration was somehow even prettier than the first, that scowl faded. The guy's tone didn't get any prettier. "You got it this time?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I think I do. Thanks, Shawn…?"

"Whatever. Can I go to the saloon now?"

He got his glare back again. "Don't let me stop you." Stepping aside to let the grumpy drunk past, he got a resentful glare as though _he'd_ initiated this whole encounter, and called the dude every nasty thing he could think of as he walked off to try out the new pointers. 

Which he found, with a mix of gratitude and irritation, to work beautifully.

* * *

Alex was still fuming that night.

He always hung his old jersey on the door while he was lifting weights. A reminder of sorts… well, not really a reminder. It wasn't like he was going to _forget_ his goals any time soon. But it was a nice, immediate focus, when it sometimes felt like the days and the routines blurred together.

Not like he really needed to see it. He had it memorized down to the last thread. The deep gold fabric, the green and black trim. The number nine stitched in bold black. The narrow lettering of the nameplate—Mullner-Harding was a bit of a squeeze. The smudges where old stains couldn't completely be washed out: a few dull greenish smears from tumbling in the grass, a splatter of rusty red where a broken nose had dripped blood. It told a story that he'd lived…

Skyreach High was the catch-all for students from the riverlands: Stardew and Sunleaf Valleys, along with the Graystone Gorge between them. It wasn't well-attended or funded. Rumor said it barely met the Ferngill Republic's educational standards, though Grandpa said that was a lie from a bunch of city-slickers who looked down on small town life. Either way, it was small and the curriculum was basic. Anyone who could afford it went to school in Zuzu City instead, but with two grandparents on pensions and a mother who'd died drained to the last cent, Alex hadn't had the option. 

He'd been fine with it. More than fine, even. His brain sure wasn't going to get him into college… a gridball scholarship could. And it would be so much easier to stand out and be _noticed_ at such a small school, right? Right!

The team had been a ragtag bunch. They hadn't even had a proper coach, just the gym teacher in a volunteer gig. They didn't have a lot of technique, or strategy, and they certainly didn't have anything fancy like _scouting_. What they did have was a bunch of strong, determined farm kids who could implement their limited playbook better than anyone. In his senior year the Skyreach Stampede had shocked the whole southern coast by making regionals, and he'd thought he had it made.

Then they'd run into the buzzsaw that was the Zuzu Central Sandpipers, led by a freshman quarterback who already had words like 'generational talent' being thrown around. They'd lost by _fifty-two_. And Alex's best efforts hadn't been enough to even attract a look.

So here he was, with a dream and some dumbbells, and he was feeling like a bit of a dumbbell himself.

_You haven't even been throwing the ball right._

He'd thought he just needed to be stronger. Faster. Tougher. As long as he kept working out, his talent would get him to the top. Had he been wrong about everything?

_No. You learn and improve, same as you do with strength training. This is nothing to get all mopey over. This is a gift, so use it like one._

Yeah. That was it. That was the answer. He wasn't going to let anything get in his way… certainly not doubt. And sure as hell not that Shawn asshole, whatever his problem was.

It would be another few days before he learned the guy's name was actually Shane.


	2. Crossing Routes

Maybe it had started with a simple errand. 

Granny had been baking overtime, trying out a few new recipes. Baking took milk and eggs, and sure, you _could_ get those from JojaMart, but why? The fact that it was a Wednesday was all the more reason _not_ to go buy things from the store that had forced Pierre's midweek closures. So she'd sent Alex off to fetch fresh dairy straight from the source: Marnie's ranch.

What had followed was a realization. Runs along the beach and lifting weights in his room were all well and good. Runs through the treacherous wilds of Cindersap Forest were even _better_. He'd only ever really been down there before for the flower dance, following the path with his grandparents and not really minding the overgrowth to the sides. But the flower dance was still a ways away, and nobody had yet cleared out the winter's worth of debris beyond the ranch's door.

Gridball was unpredictable. You could make your plans and drop back into the pocket and hope for everything to turn out alright, but eventually you had to be quick on your feet. You were going to have to scramble, to evade, to find your way around large and aggressive obstacles that were actively trying to tackle you.

Okay, so the rocks and fallen logs of the forest weren't _actively_ on the attack, but they still made him focus a lot more on where he was going. Alex loved the beach—he wasn't about to abandon it—but the sand wasn't much of a workout partner. Variety! That was the ticket.

He started making a run through the northern stretches of the forest every other day or so. Early in the morning, when he could, before the sun began pounding down too hard. It was a great addition to his training regime, except for one small problem…

Marnie's asshole nephew was always walking to work about that time. And Alex's mother had raised him to be a gentleman, which in this case meant a reflexive hello to anyone he happened to jog past. It had gone about as well as could be expected.

_"Hi, Shane." "Whatever."_

_"Hi, Shane." "Leave me alone."_

_"Hi, Shane." "Why are you talking to me?"_

_"Hi, Shane." "Would you stop?!"_

Admittedly, after the first couple attempts, he was just doing it because he wasn't going to let some _drunk_ tell him what to do. …Unless it involved better gridball form. 

Eventually, Shane stopped growling back at him. Eventually, they evolved to just exchanging brusque nods in passing. A kind of silent agreement that no, they wanted nothing to do with each other after all. And as long as neither of them rocked the boat on that, everything would be just fine.

* * *

Maybe it had started with a day off.

"Uncle Shane, will you come jump rope with me?"

He groaned softly, forcing his head up from beneath the pillow where he'd been trying to bury himself. Jas was standing in the doorway—hadn't he locked his door? He didn't remember getting home. But that wasn't unusual, and he usually managed to lock it behind him even in a drunken haze. It wasn't for _his_ sake… who the hell knew what state he'd be in the next morning? Sometimes he didn't even manage to get himself into his actual bed. Better if she couldn't wander in on him, just in case.

Well, it was unlocked today and she was there and he was only moderately hung over, so… "Run that by me again, kiddo." He was pretty sure he'd heard her fine.

"I wanna go out and jump rope!" She held the rope up and gave him her most pleading look. "Will you come play with me? Since you're home?"

Shane was, in most cases, pathologically incapable of refusing that look. This was one of the very few exceptions… he had good reason. "I will absolutely _not_ be trying to jump, you remember what happened last time?" Jump ropes and mid-afternoon benders did not mix, it turned out. His arm had been in a sling for two weeks. Not that he was drunk now, just hung over and paranoid, but better safe than sorry. "I'll break something again and we won't be able to play at all. But I'll come with you and keep you company, how's that?"

She considered that for a minute, though he could tell he'd made a convincing case. "Okay. You've gotta count for me, though! I always mess it up on my own."

"Alright, it's a deal." He gave her a grin he didn't entirely feel—not _her_ fault, his head was pounding—and dragged himself into a sitting position. Fresh air might help. And if he was going to be miserable one way or another, at least spending time with his goddaughter would take more of the edge off than… well, basically any other option.

_Beer would make you feel even better…_

_NOT AN OPTION._

As he scolded himself he saw Jas tilt her head, and cursed his inability to keep thoughts like that off his face. "Let me shower real quick, okay? Ten minutes?"

"Okay! I'll go get some food from Aunt Marnie, we can have a picnic!"

Now he really did grin. Her enthusiasm was infectious—even if he knew that the 'picnic' was going to consist of pink cake and lumpy homemade teacups full of apple juice. Maybe especially because of that. "Sounds great!"

Ten minutes later, showered and clothed and feeling at least human-adjacent, he was trooping along behind Jas with a blanket over one shoulder and a basket in the other hand. Fitting enough, given what a basket case he was.

_Stop it. Not today. Not now._

The traveling merchant cart that often roamed Stardew Valley was parked a little ways from Jas's favorite tree, and no doubt they'd be checking that out before all too much picnicking or jump rope-ing was done. For the moment she seemed pretty focused on jumping, though, waving to the cart lady and setting up shop beneath the tree.

"So you're counting for me, right? Vincent taught me a new rhyme, watch!" She twirled the rope with a proud grin. "Auntie Marnie, dressed in silk, went outside to get some milk, made a mistake and fell in the lake, how many splashes did she make?" 

Shane burst into laughter; he couldn't help it. "One," he was trying to fight it down and count properly, "two," where in Ferngill had Vincent even picked that up?, "three," the thought of Marnie willingly wearing silk made him snicker all over again, "four…" 

Jas had definitely jumped more than four times while he was trying to regain his composure, and she finally stopped to give him a reproachful look. "Uncle Shane, you can't count right while you're laughing!" By the time she was finished scolding him, she was laughing too.

"I'm sorry…" He leaned back against the tree, still grinning a little, and drew his knees to his chest. "I just wasn't expecting _that_. Go ahead, I'll get it right this time, promise."

She seemed mollified by that, but obviously didn't completely trust him, because she went back to one of her usual rhymes—"Junimo, Junimo, in the tree, how many Junimos can you see?" Probably safer that way, really.

Though it felt so good to laugh… even if his damn head was pounding again.

"So what's your best these days?" he asked after her third string of ten. He vaguely remembered when she'd made it to ten the first time—she'd practically pounced on him the moment he stepped in the door, eager to tell him all about it. He'd been too drunk to fully appreciate the achievement just then, though he'd done his best, and he'd _tried_ to make it up to her by asking to hear it again the next day…

"I got to fifteen a few days ago!" she answered cheerfully, and he winced. He was certain she hadn't told him that one. Had she? Which option was even the 'good' option there? Before he could figure it out, her face fell. "…But I haven't gotten more than twelve again since."

Fighting down a sharp pang of guilt, he shifted against the tree and tried for a grin. "Twelve is still a lot! Don't get discouraged. You'll make it back to fifteen again soon, I know you will."

_Don't get discouraged._

If there was any single thing he wanted most to impart to her, that was the one… despite or perhaps because of how hollow it sounded coming from him. She deserved to believe in herself. She deserved everything.

She deserved _better_.

His mood was darkening rapidly, but she broke through it with a bright smile. "Yeah, I will! Can we take a little break and go see the cart lady now, though?"

"Yeah, we can do that." Dragging himself off the ground—that was a skill he had a certain mastery of, at least—he took her hand and they departed from the tree.

He hadn't realized exactly how early it still was until they came around the front of the cart… and there was Alex, nibbling on what looked like a radish and chatting up the cart lady. Whatever he was talking about—as if Shane couldn't guess—seemed to be calling for a gratuitous flex every now and then.

This was exactly what he didn't need today. Or any day. He was about to turn around and suggest to Jas they come back later, but she'd already caught sight of some of today's wares… one ware, specifically. 

"Uncle Shane! Uncle Shane, she has _plum pudding!_ Can we get some? Please?" As both Alex and the cart lady turned to look at her, she blanched and hid behind him, deciding she really didn't want that much attention even for pudding.

_Welp_. 

Sighing, he looked back up at the merchant and nodded. He hadn't brought a lot of money with him—like he had a lot to bring—but he'd learned after one too many disappointments to carry enough for emergencies. Plum pudding smuggled from the Gotoro Empire, or at least from the next valley over, was an emergency.

Alex wasn't an emergency. "Hi, Jas! Hi Shane." One of those had come out much more cheerfully than the other.

"Oh… hi, Mr. Alex." She peeked out from behind Shane as he paid the merchant. "Sorry I was loud…"

"Hey, hey." Shane turned and handed her the cup of pudding. "What's Aunt Marnie always said about indoor and outdoor voices, huh? We're outside. You don't need to _apologize_ to him." It might've come out a little more emphatically than intended.

It might not have.

Alex snorted. "Oh, are you teaching manners today? I bet you're really well qualified." His tone was so light as to be pointedly insincere.

"Yeah. Sorry to interrupt you telling the only person in the valley who hasn't heard how many push-ups you've done today," he shot back, equally lightly.

"Hey, I can't help that I'm dedicated." He gave a thumbs-up, though it was obvious from his expression he'd have rather used a different finger. "Anyway, don't mind me. I'm just passing through."

"Good. Don't let us keep you."

"Oh, I won't. _Believe_ me."

Neither of them had yet wavered from their light tones. That was presumably how Jas, intent on her pudding, remained blissfully unaware of them exchanging death glares above her head. And Jas was why Shane gave in first, turning away from Alex and crossing his arms. "Hey, kiddo, how about we go back to the tree? There might be a little more shade there."

_Might_ be, indeed.

As he and Jas returned to the picnic blanket and pulled out the lumpy teacups, he was vaguely aware of Alex still staring at them. Him, more accurately… well he could fuck right off. He shot the kid his best _mind your own damn business_ glare. Or maybe his best _not even I need some tryhard wannabe judging me_ glare. Like he wasn't fully aware that everyone in this town judged him already.

Whatever kind of glare it was, it had the desired effect, and Alex turned and walked away.


	3. Walking on Eggshells

Minding his own business lasted about a week. It wasn't that he hadn't _tried_. But Pelican Town was a small place, and it was hard to avoid someone forever, especially when holidays called for getting the whole town together… 

Alex loved the egg festival. Okay, maybe that was overshooting the point. Alex loved eggs. He tried to eat no less than three per day; they were the simplest and arguably tastiest form of protein he had handy. And Granny could poach an egg sandwich like nobody's business, but even Granny's cooking skills paled in comparison to the miracles Gus could work with eggs.

He would never _say_ that, of course. Though he happened to know she'd traded the recipe for her famous fudge brittle brownies to get his salmon quiche recipe a couple of years ago, so maybe she agreed.

In any case, Alex was here for eggs. Not so much for _searching_ for eggs, which he'd never been any good at. Besides, nobody ever beat Abigail. What was the appeal of beating a couple of little kids at this every year, anyway? It didn't seem fair… kind of like, say, a bunch of kids from the riverlands versus a big city _generational talent…_ anyway. He didn't get it.

Alex didn't get a lot of things about his fellow villagers, admittedly…

"…and I heard you've been going for runs out in the Cindersap Forest, why didn't you tell me? I could get some great pictures of you by the lake when you're done!" Haley's voice brought him back to reality. "Maybe even a couple with no shirt?" She winked.

"But I _wear_ a shirt in the forest," he protested. "There's so many branches that get in the path. And some are pine trees, that's even worse."

She looked somewhere between disappointed and annoyed. "Oh."

"Anyway, you know I don't really _stop_ when I'm on a run. If you want to come with me sometime though, that would be cool! You know you're always invited."

"Ugh…" Shaking her head, she looked around the town square and wrinkled her nose. Right now the place was bustling with activity, from Gus' breakfast buffet to Abigail mock-swordfighting with the giant bunny photo board. "I can't wait for the flower dance."

Alex could. The scenery was nice, for sure, but he'd rather be lifting than dancing. "Yeah, it'll get here."

She seemed annoyed again, and when he didn't say anything else, she wandered off to the buffet. Looking after her, he shrugged; she could be a little moody sometimes. He went over to the buffet too, grabbing a hard-boiled egg in each hand and settling in to watch over the festivities. Abigail's battle with the bunny had gotten the attention of the old guy with the eyepatch—what was his name? Marlo? Marvin? Alex wasn't good with names. He did remember that the guy ran the Adventurer's Guild. It looked like he was doing some negotiation with Haley for a bunny board battle photoshoot. 

Pelican Town wasn't the most exciting place in the world, but festivals were rarely ever _dull_. That was true for better or for worse, of course… he'd gone back to snag one of Gus's legendary egg salad casserole sandwiches, and was working on that when the hunt began. And as he finished it up, he heard yelling. Not the excited yells of the egg hunters—those were off to the south, nearly overpowering what had caught his attention. This was something else, harsher, drifting faintly from behind Pierre's.

Following the voices, Alex poked his head around the corner of the building and found his two least favorite people in one spot. Pam and Shane looked close to blows.

"You _spiked_ the _punch?_ What the hell is the matter with you?!"

"Oh don't you get all snotty with me, city boy! We've all seen how wasted _you_ get! You're the only person in this town who can almost drink me under—"

"—Don't _even_ , I don't care what _you_ drink, but I'm not out here giving booze to CHILDREN!"

He'd yelled that last bit quite loud, but the shouts from the egg hunt were still mercifully louder. The only other person who seemed to have noticed the commotion was Penny, who was standing half behind a tree and looking even more nervous than usual. Alex walked up to her, putting a reassuring hand on her shoulder; she jumped a little before giving him a grateful look. It was hard to blame her, really…

"Lighten up, it won't hurt 'em."

"Did you just fucking tell me to _lighten up_ , because—"

"—What did you just say?" she snapped, stepping up and grabbing his shirt. "How about shut your filthy mouth or I'll shut it for you?"

He slapped her hand aside easily, staring her down; there weren't a whole lot of people in this town he could actually look down on. Literally _or_ metaphorically. "I'm sober right now," he snarled, "and I'm not happy about it, but it means if I have to break your nose I won't miss. So how about you keep your hands off—" Had his eyes darted to the tree for a moment? "—to _yourself_ and go tell Gus what you did, and neither of us will have to suffer through that."

Pam's eyes narrowed. "You trying to _humiliate_ me, city boy?"

"Not particularly? If I wanted you humiliated, I'd just go tell Lewis." Now he had definitely glanced at the tree; Alex felt Penny flinch slightly. "…Listen, I'm just looking out for Jas. You get that. Right?" _Yoba help you if you say no_ dripped from his tone.

But Pam did get it; she blinked and backed down. "Oh…" Then suddenly she was roaring with laughter. "Of course I'll tell Gus! He can whip up some new kiddie punch no problem. Maybe he'll keep the grown-up recipe for the saloon, huh?"

There was a look of abject disdain on Shane's face as he watched her, but he fought it down quickly. So quickly she didn't seem to catch it. "Do that. …Please." Still laughing, she toddled off to the buffet, and he stared after her with his lip curled. Alex wasn't too sure Shane had any business getting that face about the town's _other_ drunk, really… but he also didn't disagree with it.

Penny sighed softly, and he looked at her with concern. So did Shane. Then he noticed Alex, and the brief flicker of concern on his face vanished.

Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Alex and Penny stood in silence for a long couple of minutes before he finally snorted and shook his head. "The nerve of that guy, huh?" He didn't think much of Pam either, but Penny seemed to care about her, and she always seemed to have enough problems of her own. Better to jab at someone they could both agree on. 

Or so he'd thought.

"He's… just looking out for the children," she murmured, which was _not_ what Alex had expected to hear. "My mother doesn't always think through what she's doing. She… she doesn't mean any harm. But Shane's very protective of Jas."

Alex blinked. The words were all words he knew, but they didn't compute. But the encounter in the forest came back to him, and maybe it did ring a little true. "Huh." Maybe it was best to just change the subject entirely. "Anyway, are you okay?"

She nodded. "As long as Mom is laughing…" He nodded in understanding and patted her shoulder. "I think I'd actually like some punch, though. Um, once Gus makes a new batch. Thank you for…" Unable to put it into words, she just made a helpless gesture and slipped away from the tree.

Watching her go, Alex sighed. As long as Pam was laughing, right. She laughed a lot. She always seemed like one of those so-called 'happy drunks'. But here she was spiking the punch at the _egg festival_ , quite possibly the most kid-friendly celebration Pelican Town held. Happy didn't mean benign. Happy didn't mean _good_.

Living so near the trailer, he'd learned to brush her off. To fight down the visceral fear he'd learned of a lawn littered with empty bottles, reeking of booze. When he'd first moved in with his grandparents, seeing Pam coming was cause to hide behind a tree and wait for the footsteps to fade. He was stronger now…

And yet, with the new drunk in town, something new was bothering him. This was _twice_ , in a pretty short time, that he'd run across Shane looking after Jas and seeming to mean it… that thought kept twisting in the back of his mind. He couldn't get his hands around the concept. But why did he even _want_ to? He didn't give a damn about the guy. Just because he could throw a really pretty gridball?

To be fair, he really _would_ like to have someone else in this town he could talk gridball with. It was just the whole 'drunk' thing got in the way of it. Maybe he was just hoping for any hint that he might be different, even though he _knew_ drunks were never different… 

_…Or maybe it's because he might_ actually _be different, and it's not about him at all._

Maybe.

_His_ old man sure wouldn't ever have made threats like that on his behalf.

Oh he'd yelled a lot, and threatened a lot. That had been his favorite drunken pastime—though he'd never been all that much better when he'd been sober. Hell, sometimes he'd been worse. The good days had been when he'd just disappeared in search of his next fix. If he _didn't_ have more booze on the immediate horizon, he went from slurred ranting to outright hitting people to 'take the edge off'.

The thing was, channeling that aggression into anything even theoretically positive had not been part of the deal. Alex remembered. He'd come home from school with a broken arm once after mouthing off to a couple of older bullies about the Tunnelers; it was the one time he'd hoped his father might feel like going out and hitting somebody. But he'd just laughed and said he'd deserved it…

_That_ memory being the one to bubble up told him why he was actually dwelling on this. The pang he was getting wasn't exactly jealousy. It was a deep, righteous indignation at the unfairness of life. Not a feeling he was unfamiliar with… and he didn't expect fairness. Life didn't owe you anything. But he didn't have to _like_ it.

_Feed off it. Don't let it hurt_.

"Gather 'round, everyone! I've got a new recipe to try out! Eggs a la Stardew for all!"

Eggs sounded a lot better than dwelling on where his thoughts wanted to go, so he forcefully shoved the annoyance aside. He didn't have time to dwell on the past.

* * *

Thanks to the incident with Pam, Shane resolved to skip the saloon for a few days. She'd forget about it. She always did. They'd held a few drunken grudges before, and he was pretty certain it wasn't the first time he'd threatened to break her nose… or had he imagined the others? Seemed like Gus would've kicked him out for that sort of thing. Either way, it was not something he'd seen himself doing _without_ beer.

What was strange was he didn't feel bad about it. Guilt from drunken outbursts always lingered in the morning, but…

_No, you're not going to feel bad about protecting Jas. You're_ not _. You do a shitty enough job of it most of the time._ Even if he _had_ overreacted, and he was willing to entertain the thought, at least he'd had his priorities in order. For once.

Sighing, he grabbed a six-pack from the stash in his closet—carefully hidden away on the top shelves where Jas couldn't find it—and headed for the door. The forest lake was his usual backup plan when he wasn't feeling the saloon. But as he passed by the kitchen, some colored eggs and the huge plush rabbit Jas had coaxed out of Marnie caught his eye; he paused.

The lead-up to the festival had been, well… hectic. He wouldn't have imagined it—how did you ramp up production of _eggs?_ The hens would lay them when the hens felt like laying them, they'd collect them and stick them in some food coloring, that would be that.

Oh, hell no. It was _not_ that simple. Apparently when there was an actual production quota, the chickens got much more regimented schedules. Special diets, too—an extra boost of nutrition that would usually lead to a surplus they couldn't use. It was fine, though. Extra work, but nothing excessive.

Aunt Marnie stressing out about the process, on the other hand…

_"Shane, can you check up on little Gladys? She didn't eat all of her breakfast."_

_"Shane, Daisy's missing! Have you seen an extra brown hen in the house?"_

_"Shane, could you cuddle with Charlie for a few minutes? She always lays better when she has human company."_

He'd _almost_ asked if he actually qualified.

Eyes falling on a bag of sweet corn that had been left on the counter, he stopped fighting the decision he'd already made. It felt like he and the chickens could both use a little cooldown. So he grabbed the bag and his beer, and headed for the chicken coop instead.

Poking his head into the coop, Shane was greeted by a few surly clucks. It was late. People—well, chickens—were trying to sleep. "Anyone still up? I brought you a treat." None of them looked impressed, but he was kind of used to that. "Well, think on it." 

Sinking into a pile of hay, he opened the bag of corn and closed his eyes. He was tired… he was always so fucking tired anymore. It didn't actually have all _that_ much to do with the egg festival. If he could just relax a little, for once…

_Thump_. A soft weight hit his chest and took up residence on his lap; he opened his eyes. A scraggly little white hen was staring back at him. "Oh, hey, Charlie." He reached down and patted her head, then chuckled humorlessly. "Looking for human company and figured I'd do, huh?"

"Bwak."

"Gotta take what you can get, I guess. You want some beer?" He probably didn't mean that; Marnie would kill him. But Charlie looked wholly uninterested anyway as he popped one of the cans open and took a long swig. "Yeah, better if you don't. Stuff doesn't even taste good." He offered her a handful of corn instead.

Almost immediately he had the attention of a few more chickens. Even Francine, the huge brown hen who ruled the roost around here—literally—deigned to flutter down from her nest to get her cut. He shifted a little bit so he could keep nursing his beer with one hand, distribute corn with the other, and _not_ fall face-first into the hay… it took a surprising bit of coordination.

That used to be something he was good at. Maybe he still had it. Or at least, he managed not to make a fool of himself in front of a bunch of birds. One of them—he couldn't see for sure but suspected Gladys or Patsy, they were the smallest—even hopped up onto his shoulder and ruffled her feathers against his cheek as she jostled for corn; he couldn't help a little giggle. It tickled.

"If I didn't know better," he murmured with a grin, "I'd think you girls actually liked me. Course, you don't know me very well…"

Charlie clucked, and a couple of the others pecked around his hand to get at the corn. Lifting his fingers, he stroked Francine's feathery neck and was rewarded with a happy little squawk. It was adorable, frankly.

Pam's voice came back to him. _Don't you get all snotty with me, city boy_. Some city boy he was, sitting here in a pile of hay in a chicken coop. Fuck her.

But it was eating at him nonetheless… just another thing to add to the list, he supposed.

Breathing in the scent of the hay as the chickens nuzzled around him, Shane found himself feeling something almost completely alien. He was… _comfortable_. It was something different than happiness. Happiness always felt unnatural on him, just a little bit out of sync. It was forever lurking in the back of his mind how easily one mistake could shatter it. He was _happiest_ with Jas, but usually also wound tight… to keep himself on his best behavior, to keep anything of his own personal hell from slipping out where she could see.

The chickens did not give a damn about his personal hell. As long as he had handfuls of corn to offer, they seemed perfectly content to cuddle their feathery warmth against him and listen to him ramble about whatever.

It was liberating…

"…What the hell am I thinking?" he whispered. "What _was_ I thinking? What am I doing here? Why did I come here and inflict myself on them?"

Pelican Town. What a fucking _joke_. He didn't belong here and everyone knew it, and it had shit to do with where he came from. But whatever. He didn't give a damn what anyone in this town thought about him, except for the two other people who lived on this ranch. And those two, well… he tried. He really did…

You're _a fucking joke, city boy._

"I hate this!" As he spat the words Charlie fluttered on his lap, but rather than leaving just hopped up to settle on his chest. "I hate being such a burden. Do you girls ever feel like that?" He drained his beer; he was asking _chickens_ about their _feelings._ "But at least you do something to earn your keep. At least Marnie doesn't have to wonder every night if you're actually going to drag yourselves home. At least the worst you could do to Jas is nip her finger a little. I could _ruin_ her." He opened another can, fighting down the shudder at what he'd voiced. "If I haven't already…"

Silence fell over the coop, broken only by the ruffle of feathers and the occasional pop as he opened a new beer can. It felt… right, somehow, to just leave that fear hanging there. To let it gnaw at him until his guts churned and the thought of failure became all the more unbearable. Maybe it would help keep him upright.

Even if it was that much more exhausting…

"…I'm so fucking tired of being tired," he whispered.

"Bwu-gawk," Charlie offered, and he couldn't help a ragged little laugh.

"Yeah," he agreed softly, reaching up with his free hand and hugging her to his chest. "Bwu-gawk, for sure…" Exhaling slowly, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment.

The next thing he knew, sunlight was pouring in.

"Oh for _fuck's—_ "

Jumping up, scrambling to get the beer cans and himself out of the coop before Marnie or Jas came in. Pitching the cans into the empty corn bag made a muffled metallic racket, drawing some grumpy clucks and one familiar _bwak_.

Pausing just a moment, he turned to look at Charlie, who was sitting in her nesting box and staring straight at him.

"Buh-bwak!"

Despite himself, Shane felt a smile tugging at his lips. "Buh-bwak for sure," he agreed softly. "Thanks, Charlie."

He bolted.


	4. In the Dark

Rain was the biggest thing that messed up Alex's new running schedule. There were spots in the forest that could turn into ankle-deep mud when they were soaked; he'd learned it the hard way. Granny's expression had been something else.

After that he'd switched to night runs if it had rained the day before. Not his preference—the place was a little treacherous in the dark too—but you had to make sacrifices to stay strong. At least it would've dried out by the time he got there. And on the bright side, he didn't run into any unwanted company.

For the days after the egg festival, he extended his route a bit. He'd eaten a lot of eggs, and snagged leftovers. All that protein wouldn't do much good if the body didn't _use_ it properly. And that was how he found himself by the lake on a breezy Wednesday night, realizing just how very late it had actually gotten.

It was almost pitch black; the reflection of stars on the lake were the only way to tell where the shore ended and the water began. A long swath of darkness indicated the dock. Aching pleasantly from his run, Alex stepped out onto the creaky wood, feeling the cool lake wind ruffle his hair. It felt good…

Giving his eyes a little time to adjust, he started to make out shapes of slightly-more-dark within the night. The dock supports, one of those catch boxes Willy often left lying about, a coil of rope…

"Out late, huh?"

He squawked in surprise and jumped back, very nearly going over into the water. What he'd taken to be a discarded tarp was actually a _person_ , sitting hunched on the dock's edge. "Wh—?!"

"Watch yourself." The voice was soft, with a gentle northern hills drawl; he recognized but couldn't immediately place it. Maybe it was the tone that felt wrong.

The shadowy form reached back, and a lantern came on with a small _click_. It still wasn't a lot of light. But it was enough to illuminate the dock, the various discarded objects scattered over it… and Shane, holding a can of beer, looking up at him with an expression of mild curiosity.

_Wait, seriously?_

"…Sorry." It was easier to blurt the half-sincere apology than anything else he was thinking. "I couldn't see you."

"Figured. Nobody ever comes down here this late."

Part of Alex wanted to just turn and walk away right then. He had no reason or desire to be here, let alone spend any more time than necessary with _this guy_. But part of him was still so off-balance he might yet fall off the dock if he tried to retreat. And maybe there was even a little part of him that was curious. There had been no demand that he leave, and that was _weird_.

Something was drawing him to stay… and that was weirder.

"Mind if I hang for a few? Just wrapping up a workout, I only came over to cool down."

Shane just shrugged and gestured to the open space next to him on the dock. "I don't own the place." He drained his beer and pulled a new one from a small cooler at his side.

Curiosity kept right on warring with the urge to go somewhere, _anywhere_ else as quickly as possible. And it kept on winning. Alex sat, draping his arm over one knee and staring out at the water. Shane said nothing more, and a silence descended that was incredibly awkward. Alex was still breathing heavily from the run, and tried to focus on that sound, the soft lapping of the water, basically anything but the fact that he was sitting here watching the lake with someone he didn't even _like_.

What did he want out of this? For something to go horribly wrong? To reassure himself that yes, all drunks were the same after all? Or was he trying to disprove something—trying to figure out something—he didn't _know_. It was infuriating. And he couldn't even be infuriated at Shane for it, because he kept thinking he could just get up and walk away…

But he just kept sitting in the silence.

Maybe the silence got to his unlikely companion, too, because he finished that beer and looked up again. "Here, you look thirsty." He passed a can over, and Alex momentarily froze.

He had never before touched a beer in his life. Not after what he'd seen it do to his father. It wasn't that he was afraid, exactly—he'd promised himself he wouldn't be. He would drink, carefully and responsibly, once he came of age. In the _summer_. Gus didn't really enforce drinking age in the saloon, and it sure didn't stop anyone _else_ his age in town, but well… he'd promised.

Even if he'd wanted to break that promise, this _certainly_ wasn't the time, though the oddity of the situation just became that much stronger. _Dude lives on beer, why's he offering one to_ me? _He doesn't like me. I don't like him. He's a dick._

_Isn't he?_

It finally occurred to him that Shane was waiting for a response, and he reached up and pushed the can back. "I don't drink yet." It didn't come out as hostile as it could've, though he said it more than firmly enough to stave off any debate. Dude had better not try to argue.

Shane just shrugged and gave a noncommittal grunt, taking the can back and popping it open himself. Then he reached into the cooler beside him with his other hand. "Catch, then." A different can came sailing at him.

He caught it, fumbling only a little from the unexpected toss, and squinted in the darkness at the label. "Sparkling water…?"

"Chaser," he explained, taking a swig of his new beer. "Looks like you need it more than me."

Alex wouldn't have bet on that, really. But he _had_ been on a long run, and it was hot and he was parched, so… "Thanks." He cracked it open and took a sip, nearly sneezing on the fizz that bubbled up.

What came next was unexpected: silence that _wasn't_ horrendously awkward. He wouldn't have called it comfortable, but he wasn't regretting every decision that had led to this moment. Anymore. And that in itself gave him a creepy feeling… he _should_ be wanting to run screaming from this situation, shouldn't he?

_No. I'm strong. I'm not afraid._

Eventually Shane spoke again, after draining the next can of beer. "So. You throwing from your shoulder?"

"Yeah, it's gotten a lot better…" He frowned. If he were honest with himself, he'd at least wanted the chance to ask about that. "What do you care?"

"Used to play." He started another beer. "Zuzu North." Looking at the cans beside him, Alex found himself stunned at how functional the guy seemed—his speech was barely even slurred, unless the absence of the customary growl counted. Somehow he didn't think it did. _How much tolerance does this guy have for that stuff?_

That was not the question he was most interested in, so he set it aside. "Let me guess, blew your arm out?"

"Nah. I was second string behind the guy that did." Shrug. "Turned out backup was my limit."

Alex took a rather long gulp of his sparkling water, remembering those perfect throws. "You were only a _backup?"_

Shane eyed him in surprise, then gave an odd little laugh. "Kid, I didn't take things nearly as serious as you. You've still got a chance…"

Something in his tone made it sound like he wasn't just talking about gridball. It was surreal. There was an actual _warmth_ to him, when he wasn't snarling like an asshole… Alex felt himself loosening up a little more.

"I've got more than a _chance_ ," he declared. "I've got it all figured out. I'm gonna become the first ever pro gridball player from Stardew Valley."

"Yeah?" More beer. "What if you don't?"

He scowled reflexively. "Hey, I already led Skyreach to regionals. There's no doubt in my mind I can go further! I just need to keep training and getting stronger, and I'll claim my spot on the Tunnelers' roster no problem."

That had not been an answer to the actual question, and he didn't care. He didn't owe _this guy_ anything. More to the point, though… he'd heard it before. Both his grandparents, more than once, had gently advised having a backup plan; Granny kept trying. He'd learned to stop taking those cautions as a personal slight. But backup plans were for people who were ready to accept failure, and failure wasn't even on his radar.

"You're cute," Shane commented bluntly, and he bristled in sudden indignation. "And arrogant. But what the hell, gotta believe in something, why not yourself."

…Had that been encouragement or an attack? Alex couldn't even tell. "Hell yeah I do," he agreed, with more than a slight edge of defiance to his voice. Whatever the other man thought of it, he wanted that abundantly clear. _I believe in myself, and_ nobody's _gonna stop me. Deal with it._

Another vague grunt of acknowledgment. It was an unsatisfying response. But then again, it wasn't like this guy owed him affirmation either. Nobody owed him—he cut those thoughts off before they could start to wander somewhere darker, and was oddly relieved when Shane changed the subject.

"Don't drink yet, huh?"

There it was, the question he'd been dreading earlier. But now he felt less guarded, and to his surprise the words came easily. "I'm underage until summer. I know that's kind of… uncool, I guess. But I try to take care of myself the best I can, you know?"

Had that been insensitive? Probably a little. But Shane had asked. And he _was_ proud of the care he took with these things.

If it bothered him, it was only for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Then, to Alex's surprise, he nodded. "Good idea. You don't want to make a habit of it… you got a future ahead of you still."

Definitely not just talking about gridball this time.

"…What's _with_ you?" Alex blurted all of a sudden. As soon as it came out his eyes widened in surprise, and perhaps a tinge of horror—but then he'd already started and the way out seemed to be to barrel through. "All you've done since you got to town is tell me and everyone else to screw off, _even_ when you were helping me throw better, and now you're giving me drinks and telling me to believe in myself like none of that ever happened?"

Shane met his gaze, clearly taken aback. "Who's saying none of that happened?"

If he didn't see a contradiction there, he was way more impaired than he came off. But alcohol didn't even answer the question at hand. "You usually just chill with people you hate like this?"

"…You think it's about _you?"_ He sighed heavily, mixed with a huff of frustration; it came out sounding something like _buh_. "Look, kid. Life…" He set his current beer down—he was on what, number four since Alex had arrived? Five? He'd lost track—and lifted his gaze to the stars. "…Nah, you wouldn't get it."

Alex frowned slightly. A moment ago he'd have said he didn't actually care that much, but being preemptively written off grated. This guy had no _idea_ what he'd experienced in his life. "Wanna bet?"

That drew a scoff, and another stretch of silence. As it went on he wondered if he'd just ended the conversation, if he should just get up and leave. He was probably only seconds away from doing just that when Shane finally spoke again.

"You ever feel like… no matter what you do, you're gonna fail?" A stark vulnerability had entered his tone. "Like you're stuck in some miserable abyss, and you're in so deep you can't even see the light of day?"

…Maybe he really should've just left this alone. Something about those words stabbed into his chest and coiled there, sharp and vicious. It wasn't personal experience with the feeling. It was a memory…

_"She loved you so much, Alex. But sometimes people just fall too far. They can't see through the darkness anymore."_

He found himself frozen, just barely able to shake his head enough to break the spell.

It hadn't really been intended as an answer to the question, but Shane took it as one. "Yeah, didn't think so." If he'd noticed the discomfort that accompanied his silence, he ignored it. But his eyes were locked somewhere far in the distance, as though he too had become more wrapped up in his own mind than the actual conversation at hand. "No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try… I'm just… never strong enough to climb out of that hole. You fail enough, you learn to just stay in a shell. And when people come along and try to break through, you just want to kick them back out before you both regret it…"

A clattering sound seemed to snap them both out of the spell; Alex had dropped his can. He picked it up quickly, flushing. "Sorry." He wasn't even sure if he was apologizing for the can, or, well… everything. That had been a _lot_ , and he wasn't sure how else to respond.

Picking up his own can, Shane finished it off and looked back at him. His expression was still unreadable. "Welp… my liver's begging me to stop, and you've gotta have better things to do. See you around, Alex." Grabbing the cooler, he stood and left the dock, leaving the lantern behind.

Alex found himself staring at the lantern. A faint, feeble light in the overwhelming darkness of the forest. And as he reached out to switch it off, as the darkness fell over him completely, he felt his guts churn.

_You might be wrong about everything._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The drinking age in Pelican Town here is 21 because, well... reasons.)


	5. On the Grid

The _thump_ of the gridball against a tire was entirely too familiar a sound. Especially when it was the sound of _failure_. Alex wasn't starting to dislike it; he'd been disliking it for a long time now and was reaching the point of outright loathing.

But the _thumps_ , like the soreness in his arms after a couple hundred push-ups, were the price of making progress. And he was for sure making progress. Today he'd nailed the tire swing twice in a row from forty yards out. At thirty he'd become consistent—he'd already made seven of ten or so, but now he was barely missing at all. It did feel like the returns were starting to diminish some… but every little bit of improvement he could claw out was _something_. 

Setting up for a new forty yard throw, he caught sight of a now-familiar blue hoodie approaching from the river. _Perfect timing!_ With a confident grin he adjusted his stance, paying extra attention to get it just right, and loosed a throw.

Flying in a perfect spiral, the ball sailed dead center through the tire.

"Nailed it!" he crowed, turning to Shane just as the other man came into earshot. "Hey, Shane, did you see that? Forty yards! Told you it's getting better!"

Snort. "Yeah. Great, kid. You hit a stationary target." His voice had taken on that rough, growling cadence again, masking the warmth from the dock… Alex was abruptly struck by the realization that it couldn't be alcohol. It was an _act_. An almost certainly conscious act. The guy put _effort_ into being as unapproachable as possible.

Well, he wasn't buying it anymore. "Want to be a moving target for me, then?"

"No."

"You sure?"

Shane rolled his eyes and turned away, heading for the saloon. Well, it had been worth a try. Alex was about to go back to his reps when the other man paused, looking back over his shoulder.

"Hit it from fifty, and we'll talk."

Oh. Oh really. A _challenge?_ He wondered if this guy knew what he was really getting into. But did it matter?

"You're on." He smirked. "No problem."

That was maybe just a _little_ overstatement. Shane didn't even acknowledge it as he walked away. Well, Alex would have the last laugh… he squared up to the tree and started pacing off the new distance from the mark he'd left in the dirt at forty yards.

_Forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine…_ his grandparents had a lot of lawn space, but he was pushing the edge of the path now… 

_Fifty_. He exhaled slowly, then turned, staring at the tire in the distance. Damn, the opening looked small from back here. He'd made throws this long back at Skyreach, of course, and even longer. But those throws had involved him and his target working together. Stationary targets were actually harder; unlike a receiver, the tire couldn't adjust even a little bit itself. It was all him.

He shook his head slightly, swallowing back the few moments of doubt. Every goal he'd ever set had looked hard, until he'd done it.

The good, honest way to attempt this would be to work his way out to the distance in question. The spiteful way would be to just start chucking a gridball from fifty yards until he got lucky. And as much as he wanted to get there honestly eventually… smirking, he marked off the new distance in the dirt and stepped behind the line.

If Shane could play at being such a dick on purpose, Alex could start with spite.

* * *

The next Friday, as Shane trudged from the saloon, he found someone waiting for him. And something flying at him.

"Hey, Shane! Catch!"

He actually almost got it—if his reflexes had all been there, he probably would have. But then, maybe not. He hadn't ever been much of a receiver. As he fumbled the gridball and watched it bounce away through the darkness, he snorted and shook his head. "It's damn near midnight, you have _any_ idea how drunk I am?"

"Hey, it was a nice try."

"Fuck you." There was no heat in his voice, to his own surprise; he approached and slumped against the dog pen. Staying upright was hard. "You're up late."

Alex blinked. "You notice how late I'm usually up?"

"Well I know you're not usually here to bother me at closing time…" He scowled and adjusted his grip on the fence, which seemed to be moving a little. It certainly wasn't. "Don't see why you're doing it now either, haven't I been rude enough to you yet?"

"Yeah right, you're not even using your leave-me-alone voice right now."

A bleary-eyed stare of disbelief greeted that observation. Nobody in this town had picked up on that.

_Well that's because you decided to have a little heart to heart with grid kid here and not with anyone else, isn't it?_

He still wasn't sure what had possessed him to _do_ that. Maybe because it had been the docks… he was more relaxed there, in the forest, where nobody ever came to bother him. His guard had been down.

Besides, nothing he'd said was untrue. His usual attitude towards Alex—as with just about everyone else—had fuck-all to do with Alex. Though he did find him _frustrating_. There was something about his casual confidence that made Shane just want to grab him and shake him; to scream that the world was a miserable place that wanted nothing more than to crush his soul, and he had to protect himself from it rather than strutting around like a peacock in a letter jacket.

To be fair, Shane wanted to yell that at people on a pretty regular basis and they all still seemed to be fine. Maybe it was just him.

"So anyway, you know how you said if I hit the tire from fifty yards we'd talk?"

…Oh right, they were _talking_. "Buh." Had he said that? It sounded vaguely familiar. Searching through the haze of several night's worth of beer, he found the memory and groaned. Godsdammit, he _had_ said that, and he hadn't even been drunk at the time—just annoyed. So he'd punished himself, apparently. "Gonna need proof, kid."

Of course he didn't even hesitate. "I have a witness. Tell him, Dusty!"

"Woof!"

Blinking, Shane turned for a moment to look through the slats of the dog pen. "Do _I_ have any idea how drunk I am?" he muttered. "Or does your dog actually bark on command?"

Alex was looking at the pen with a bit of surprise himself. "Not usually, I just thought it would be funny to say." Grin. "Must be a sign, right?"

A sign? Like hell he believed in those. But saying so, no doubt, would just get another obnoxiously cheerful counter. "What do you want," he finally sighed. _Let's get this over with_. The answer was going to be no.

"Someone to play some catch with every once in awhile. Is that so much?" Alex crossed his arms. "You used to play, you said. You walk right by here almost every day. You're seriously telling me you never get the urge to toss a ball around again?"

…That was not only barking up the wrong tree, it wasn't even in the right _forest_. His love for gridball had vanished somewhere a bit ahead of his sobriety. "Yeah, that's exactly what I'm telling you."

And yet…

_What the hell else are you gonna do? Stock shelves, get drunk, disappoint Marnie, maybe disappoint Jas, black out for six hours, repeat? Can't fit a little catch into that busy schedule? Might be good for you. Maybe he'll nail you in the face and you'll be in a coma for a couple months. You can hope._

Damn it, but his drunk brain liked to get him into things his sober brain would regret. Then again, considering when he'd issued the fifty yard challenge, it seemed like his sober brain liked to return the favor. _Fuck you, sober brain. Gonna serve you right!_ "Know what, fine."

Alex's eyes widened. Like he'd failed to make a plan for if this actually worked. "Wait, what?"

"I said fine. And assuming you're not an idiot who thinks I'm actually gonna catch anything in _this_ condition," he gestured clumsily to encompass both his drunken state and the darkness, "I guess I'll see you Monday."

"How about tomorrow?"

_Fuck's sake._ "Do you know when to quit, kid?"

"Yeah, I do." Even in the darkness he saw the blaze of determination in Alex's eyes. "Never."

Shane stared at him silently, and again found himself reluctantly considering it. Though the evaluation running a bit cloudily through his mind had very little to do with Alex and more to do with the calendar… 

Tomorrow was his birthday. And to put it mildly, it was not a date he had a whole lot of enthusiasm for marking. In fact he'd outright told Marnie that he didn't want her to do anything—though if she insisted, a hot pepper pizza would make him perfectly happy.

Perfectly happy. Wasn't _that_ a joke.

Ideally it would only have been a minor disruption to his usual Saturday. But it could become a major one, if Marnie got it in her head to try to actually celebrate, which he wouldn't put past her. She kept wanting him to _do things_. Getting out of the house would stave off the issue; getting out of the house and _not_ going directly to the saloon would probably make her happy. Or at least he'd seem like slightly less of a disaster than usual…

"…Screw it, sure. Tomorrow." _Have fun, sober brain!_

Lingering somewhere deep beneath all those justifications was one he couldn't quite bring himself to acknowledge.

Maybe it _did_ sound a little bit like fun.

* * *

If he was being honest, Alex had not entirely expected Shane to show up. Maybe he would change his mind. Maybe he hadn't meant it to begin with. Maybe he'd been too drunk to remember agreeing. Maybe he was too drunk _now_ to remember agreeing.

There were lots of maybes.

Whatever the case, he didn't actually wait around to be disappointed. He was under the tree doing sit-ups when a shadow crossed over him.

"Should I bother asking how many of those you've done? I mean, I know you'll tell me anyway."

Blinking, Alex sat properly and turned to see Shane leaning against the tree trunk, watching him with a familiar mild curiosity. "Oh, hey!" He grinned and hopped to his feet. "Lost count at 112, but that's pretty good, huh?"

"It's a number."

Well, his attitude wasn't any different. Alex looked him over. The ratty hoodie and five o'clock shadow also weren't any different. What was definitely different was the shirt beneath the hoodie: it was bright pink with what appeared to be a bunch of farm animals drawn in sparkly purple fabric paint. "That's your workout shirt?"

"Present from Jas," he answered matter-of-factly. "One smartass comment about it and I'm leaving."

…Okay then. "Dude, I was just asking, chill." He really hadn't intended to say anything else… though Shane's grumpiness had him badly wanting to ask how much he'd had to drink to put the shirt on. He wanted to play catch more, though. "You want the first throw?" That was only polite.

"Hell yeah I do."

_Huh_. "Is that enthusiasm?" he asked as he retrieved the gridball from the patch of grass he'd set it in; Shane accepted it with a scoff.

"Just as a reminder, you asked for this. You _begged_ for this. You would not shut the fuck _up_ about it." He flipped the gridball in his hands, eyes narrowing, and dropped into his passing stance. "Now go long and let's see what you've got."

Alex just looked at him for a second, slowly raising an eyebrow. _Guy hasn't learned his lesson about challenges._ Then, with a smirk, he turned and broke towards the river.

"Let's see _you_ back that up!"

It always felt good to just _run_. To not have to worry about slipping on sand or tripping over branches, just to feel the wind, to hear it and his blood pounding together in his ears as his feet struck the path. Alex had learned to enjoy most of his workout routine, to some degree or another. But the freedom of a good straightforward sprint was among his favorites.

With his senses stretched to their limits of awareness, he heard the soft _whoosh_ of the ball somewhere behind him. A shadow from the sun at his back. He glanced back over his shoulder and lunged forward, but misjudged it just slightly, and went face-first into the dirt. What air had been in his lungs evacuated; he made a sound that started out as a yelp and ended as a gasp.

As he lay there struggling to get his oxygen back, the ball landed… directly between his splayed hands.

_That…_

The ball bounced away, coming to rest just out of his reach. And the first breath that returned to Alex's lungs became laughter. He couldn't stop it. Rolling over onto his back, he looked up at the brilliant sapphire sky and gave himself a few more moments to recover.

_That was…_

He hadn't expected the rush of the impact. But he'd felt it. The moment where he'd given it all, outside of his control—not just pitching a ball at a tire or lifting a lifeless bar of metal. Oh, he'd made do with those. He could push himself, he could set his own goals further and further ahead. He could run the forest all he wanted. But he couldn't have the challenge, the complete unpredictability, that only another person could provide…

He'd known he wanted someone to toss a ball around with. He hadn't realized until he hit the dirt how badly he _needed_ it. It might have been the first time he'd felt that adrenaline spike since Skyreach, and it was exhilarating. And it had come from a miss!

"You alright, kid?" Shane had come closer while he was gathering himself, though he didn't sound worried, exactly. More like he was idly wondering if he ought to be worried. 

"All… right…" he echoed, regaining his feet. "Alright?" He was so much better than alright. Leaning over to pick up the gridball, he turned, a brilliant smile on his face. "I'm great. And _you_ should probably get running."

"Buh, or not. I want to see your throw."

Well, if he insisted. Alex didn't intend to go easy on him. "Don't say I didn't warn you!" He took up his stance and let it fly.

The throw was beautiful. Perfect spiral, perfect arc, plenty of distance. It _may_ have lacked a bit in accuracy… but Shane spun around and ran for it like he actually meant it. He definitely should've started running earlier, though. His trajectory was fine, but the ball was still well over his head when it crossed over him.

Much like Alex, he tried a last-ditch lunge. Much like Alex, he ended up face down in the dirt. He didn't seem nearly as pleased about it, though he didn't exactly seem _mad_ either. "Okay, fine," he called back as he clambered to his feet and dusted himself off. "Point taken!"

"It was a nice try!"

"Oh, shut _up_." Retrieving the gridball—it had landed about another five yards past him—he drew up and launched a second throw without warning.

Alex gawked. And then he sprinted. The throw had drifted a bit to the left, but the distance was more the issue. No _way_ he was catching up to it. At least, not until it dropped and rolled a ways along the ground; he dove on it before it could go rolling all the way into the river.

Not that they had any sort of distance markers, but Alex had a pretty good sense of how far away things were around here. That had definitely been sixty yards. "You wanna play like that, huh?" he said quietly as he picked the ball up, then smirked. Two could for sure play at this game.

He gave the next throw everything he had, from right on the riverbank, and sent it arcing well over Shane's head. Which was _not_ the correct objective for an actual pass, but it had done what he needed it to do. Jumping to try to wrangle the throw, Shane only accomplished tipping it further away.

It was hard to tell at this distance, but he _might've_ flipped Alex off as he ran to retrieve the ball. Alex just shot him a thumbs-up in response. He was coming to the conclusion that this game of catch might not involve much _catching_ …

He was surprisingly okay with that.

Having both shown off their range, they did tone it down a bit; enough that a couple of catches did happen eventually. It certainly wasn't the rule of the day. But it wasn't the point, was it? They'd gone for a bit more than half an hour when Shane tracked down an errant pass and brought the gridball back rather than throwing it; he dropped to sit by the tree, breathing hard. 

"You happy yet?"

"We can break." Alex _had_ prepped an extra water bottle; he handed it over as he grabbed his own. "Here. There's electrolyte powder."

"…Thanks." Shane accepted the bottle and tilted his head. "No way you're getting that stuff around here? You really are serious, huh?"

"Yeah, I am. Have to order supplements and stuff in from the city, but it'll all be worth it." He sat across from the other man, shifting into a patch of sunlight that made its way through the leaves. "You look beat."

"Buh, you think? Ugh… I knew I was out of shape, but damn." He leaned back against the tree and chugged his water. "Haven't done that much _running_ in awhile."

"You don't seem much like the athletic type," Alex agreed with a shrug; it got him a look of annoyance, but just a little. Shane _had_ just said it himself. He took a swallow of his own water. "Still got your arm though."

"Yeah… fucking JojaMart crates make sure of that." He spat the name of the store like a poison. That wasn't an uncommon attitude in town, but Alex hadn't necessarily expected it from one of the place's own employees. "You'll have even better soon, you're still unlearning your old form. Hell did they teach you at Skyreach?"

"Not much," he admitted, though his eyes narrowed slightly. "We didn't have much to work with, not like in the city. We did our best."

Shane didn't seem to have anything caustic to say about that. Or he was still just catching his breath. Either way, he just nodded, and they sat in silence. _Comfortable_ silence.

Alex had so many questions. About the city, about his playing days, about how someone with a sixty-yard throw ended up a dead end drunk in Pelican Town. What he ended up saying was, "By the way, I did two hundred and eight push-ups this morning."

"Of course you did."

"How many could you do when you played?"

"Probably less than that." He frowned. "You're not actually doing that every day, are you? You're gonna fall apart faster than I am."

"I take breaks," Alex assured him. He really did. Occasionally. "And you can't be falling apart _that_ much. I could help you out with a workout program if you wanted, I know where to get all the gear around—"

Shane's withering look shut him up. "How about you not get so damn carried away? I'm only doing this because…" A pause. "…I don't even know, I was drunk when I agreed to it. So don't _push_ it, okay?"

…Was catch worth this? 

Oh, catch was totally worth this. 

"Okay, okay, you want to get worn out this fast it's your call, I guess. But seriously… if you can throw like that while you're out of shape and falling apart or whatever, and you were only a backup, how good was your starter?" Alex knew of a couple FGL quarterbacks from Zuzu City, but he didn't think either of them had played at Zuzu North. "Does he still play somewhere?"

Shane's expression abruptly locked up. "He's…" Whatever he was trying to say seemed to simply refuse to come out, and he threw back a very long drink of his water as if he were willing it to be something stronger. "…He was never the same after he hurt his arm," he said finally, tonelessly. "More of a runner, anyway, got moving and nobody could touch him…"

"Oh." Even Alex could tell when he ran into a topic he probably shouldn't pursue. "So you were the long bomb specialist, huh?"

"…Yeah, and that was all. Couldn't scramble for shit." Shaking his head a little, Shane seemed to be physically fighting off whatever had upset him. Then he rolled his eyes. "I was also—maybe you've noticed—five foot six, which kinda messes with the quarterbacking in general."

Oh. He was pretty short, wasn't he? "That sucks, man."

"Yeah, sure." He still seemed on edge, and his next words only confirmed it. "Know what, I need a drink. Now." No question what he really meant there; he was literally holding a water bottle. Or was until he set it aside and stood, stretching with a slight grimace. "Catch you later."

Alex blinked, then jumped up too, gathering the water bottles up out of reflex. By the time he was back on his feet, Shane was already walking away. "Hey, hang on!" The other man stopped, turned, and glared; he was definitely about to be told to fuck off. He decided to intercept that, given what he actually had to say. "…Thanks, Shane."

"…Yeah, whatever." He hesitated. "See you Monday. If you want."

"Hell yeah."

They stared at each other for a moment longer, and then he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what was up with all the spaces before punctuation in the earlier chapters, or even if that was actually annoying anyone but me, but I think I got them all now... sorry if not! x.x


	6. Flowers and Masks

The best thing about the flower dance, in Alex's not so humble opinion, was that it symbolized the end of spring. Not that he had anything against spring—just when spring ended, _summer_ began. It was like jumping a hurdle, and once he was over it, the sun and hot weather and impending gridball season all lay free and clear before him.

The start of summer was a hell of a hurdle, actually, but… no, it wasn't the day to dwell on that. What was important right now was that there were girls in pretty dresses to be looked at and a dance competition to be won.

_It is_ not _a competition._

Mayor Lewis told them that every year. The flower dance wasn't about winning. The flower dance was about sending up the town's thanks for the bounty of a new spring, invoking the blessings of Yoba for the coming summer, strengthening the bonds between townspeople like the intertwining stems of the flowers, blah blah _blah…_

Haley had been the flower queen five years running, and she'd already made it clear that she would _not_ be stepping down from the throne this year. It was totally a competition.

Speaking of Haley, she was approaching now with an armful of tulips and daisies, her skirt swishing as she walked. "Alex!"

"Oh hey, Haley." He rose from the tree stump he'd been sitting on and grinned. "So, you want to dance with me?"

She snorted. "I thought you'd never ask." Sure she had. "Let's get you fixed up." She'd been starting to tuck a tulip behind his ear before he even finished the question.

"Easy on the hair," he muttered as she added a couple more flowers; he spent way too much time and effort gelling it properly to have it messed up before the dance even started.

"Oh come on, Alex. I might be the only other person _in_ this town who understands the value of nicely-styled hair." She finished up and stepped back, looking over him critically, then shook her head and adjusted a couple of daisies. "I wouldn't ruin it. Where's your jacket?"

Reaching back to where he'd left it on the stump, Alex pulled on his suit jacket with some reluctance. It was a little tight this year—that was good! It meant his arm work was paying off! But it was uncomfortable.

Haley either didn't notice his discomfort, or just figured suffering was a natural part of the event; that lacy dress _surely_ had to chafe. "You've seemed a little happier lately," she commented as she laced flowers through his buttonholes. "Been excited for this too?"

"…Yeah, totally." In all honesty he'd have forgotten all about it, if Granny hadn't spent the last week preparing the decorations. And they looked great, as always; it wasn't _just_ the other dancers that made for nice scenery at the festival. Alex had gained an honest appreciation for flowers over his years living here.

Obviously, he kept that to himself.

An appreciation for dancing, on the other hand? Not exactly. At least the moves were basically automatic for him by now. When they were younger, Haley had made him practice for weeks before the event… just to make sure he was prepared, she'd said, like they didn't both know they'd be dancing together.

Haley had been his first friend in this town. His only friend, even. But more and more often lately something just felt _off…_ in the way she looked at him, the way she talked to him.

Maybe she was losing faith. He'd tried to tell her more about his workouts and how much he was improving, to reassure her he was still serious, he was still going to do this. But it never seemed to help. Maybe he'd just have to succeed and prove it. In any case, telling her he'd actually been happier because he had someone to throw a gridball with seemed like it wouldn't go anywhere beneficial.

"Are you two about ready?" The both jumped slightly as Mayor Lewis strode over to them, smiling. "You look lovely as always, Haley… and Alex, dashing as usual! Now, I just want you two to remember that this is a joyful occasion to be shared among the townspeople—"

"—and not a competition," they both recited with him.

"Don't worry, sir. We understand."

"And we're ready when everyone else is." Haley smiled brightly until he walked over to the next pair. Turning to Alex, her smile became a smirk. "He's damn right it's not a competition, nobody else here can put up a fight!"

He laughed. "That's for sure. We've got this." Draping an arm over her shoulders, he guided her out into the field where the others were gathering.

Maybe the flower dance wasn't his _favorite_ town festival… but he didn't intend to lose. At anything.

* * *

In a cruel bit of irony, it was Jas who'd saved Shane from the flower dance. If she'd turned that pleading gaze on him he'd have had no choice but to show up. Instead, she wound up with a late spring flu, and he'd stayed home to take care of her. Marnie alone went to the dance, promising to bring back all kinds of pretty flowers.

For about half a second, she'd considered aloud the idea of staying home and telling him to go. Yeah, right. There was wanting him to do things, and then there was having an understanding of _reality_.

So instead of being outside in some flowery field, watching some ridiculous dance—or worse, having to _participate_ —he was sitting on the floor in Jas's room, leaning back against the side of her bed. He'd been halfway through _Where the Mermaids Are_ when she'd fallen asleep; the book was still open in his lap. She was sniffling and whimpering, and every time she made a noise he kicked himself for the relief he was feeling.

This was not getting him anywhere. Leaving wasn't an option, or he'd be drinking by now—or at least out with the chickens. Maybe both. Probably both. Instead he found his thoughts drifting to the last week or so. 

It had been weird… 

It turned out he wasn't actually good for a whole lot of gridball after a full work shift. Probably should've anticipated that, but he hadn't been _thinking_ a whole lot at the time. Alex had somehow convinced him to attempt a couple of catches anyway; he'd agreed as long as he didn't expect any running.

He'd _agreed_. What the _hell_. Why did he keep playing along with this?

_Because someone wanting to spend time with you without needing you to play nice is a weird fucking novelty, that's why._

…Welp, there was that.

Dealing with Alex, it turned out, was pretty easy. Kid didn't care how much of a bitter jerk he was—or if he did, he didn't show it—as long as he was willing to toss a gridball around. It was a straightforward transaction. Shane liked those.

He wasn't sure he liked how much the kid kept drilling him about his own playing career, such as it was. He'd made no secret of that. If Alex pushed too hard, he walked away—and yet the next day there he was again. And somehow Shane ended up catching gridballs again.

_See? It's a social interaction even_ you _probably can't fuck up. Though if there's a way, you'll find it._

There was something else, lurking beneath it all. Alex reminded him of someone… but _that_ was something he didn't want to think about. So he pushed it away into the mental box he kept all his other unwelcome thoughts in, to be drowned away in beer until they didn't bother him anymore.

As if that actually worked.

"Ukkel Shade?"

He lifted his head at the murmur from behind him, and turned. Jas had one eye cracked open. "Hey, kiddo. Sleep help any?"

"Uh-uh. By dose is sduffed…"

_That_ he'd gathered. "It sure is," he agreed, ruffling her hair sympathetically. "You want another bite of hot pepper?" That had worked earlier—one bite of pepper, one glass of milk, and she'd been good for a little while. Well, except that she'd had to eat a bite of hot pepper. Given how she felt about peppers, that cure might be worse than the disease.

She shook her head vigorously in response to the question, then stopped and whimpered. "Ow…"

Shane winced. "Hey, take it easy. I can try making you some soup, how about that?"

"Soup souds good." Sniffle. "Cad I hab sobe hot cocoa too?"

"You know Aunt Marnie says that's only for winter…" He really hadn't been here long enough, or more to the point, gotten comfortable enough with Marnie, to go undermining her rules. Then again, why not? What did it matter? He'd take the blame, and she had a hell of a lot more and better reasons to be fed up with him than giving Jas some hot cocoa when she was sick and missing a festival. "…But if you promise not to tell, I bet I can make you some."

She giggled, though it sounded painful and quickly turned into a cough. "I probise, Ukkel Shade."

_You're such a damn pushover._

_Yeah, well. If I can't make her happy, why bother hanging around?_

He couldn't have these thoughts right now. To cover it he stood, wincing for a whole different reason; he'd been sitting there for a good couple of hours. Maybe he should've at least gotten into a _chair_. "Ow. Okay, you want to come to the kitchen or should I bring it in here for you?"

"Id here…"

"Alright. You'll have to be careful, you know."

"I doe."

Ruffling her hair again, he went to fix some soup—something from a can, of course. Marnie had plenty of stock and vegetables around, but figuring out how they went together was beyond his talents, or at least his ambition. Besides, Jas needed soup _fast_. He tossed some pizza rolls in the microwave for himself while he was at it. What time was it, even? Mid-afternoon. Whatever.

A few minutes later he was setting the tray up over her lap, plenty of steam still rising from the bowl. The steam was probably half the point, wasn't it? He sat on the bed so he could help keep the tray steady, watching her; she eagerly finished off the whole mug of hot cocoa before even starting on the soup, and he chuckled. _Got to have priorities_.

Shortly into the soup, he could actually _hear_ her breathing more easily. "That helping?"

"Yeah, a lot!" She sounded better already, too. "I wish I didn't have to miss the dance…"

"I wish you didn't too, kiddo." Much as Shane himself was happy to be missing it, he'd never have wished this on her. "Want me to finish reading you that book while you're eating?"

She considered that a minute, then shook her head. "No thanks. I know how it ends."

"You know how they all end," he chuckled. They couldn't get her new books very often, and the town library was pretty sparse. She usually didn't seem to mind.

"I know. But I like hearing them again anyway."

They both fell silent for a bit as Jas ate. Shane's mind was trying to wander again. To nights in the city, looking after her for her parents. To the nights after…

_Stop_.

Damn, but he missed them. Every once in awhile, if he caught Jas at just the right angle, he could see…

_I said stop!_

She rescued him from that train of thought as she finished up her soup, then reached up and tugged his jacket. "Uncle Shane?"

"…Yeah?"

"Will you dance with me next year?"

He blinked. "Buh…?" Good question. Would he? Was that a promise he could make—was that a promise he could _keep?_ He didn't like making promises, especially to her. He was terrible at following through. But that pleading look of hers… he smiled softly. "Of course I will, kiddo."

Somehow, he would keep it. He hoped…

Right about then he heard a door open. _Oh, hell_.

"Jas, Shane, I'm back!"

"Aunt Marnie!" Jas cried gleefully, then lapsed into a coughing fit; Shane snagged the empty hot chocolate mug and shoved it into his jacket pocket. Good thing she'd had priorities.

Marnie came in with her face half-hidden by a bouquet of bright yellow and purple flowers. "Poor thing, you still don't sound very good. I have something to cheer you up, though!"

Getting the coughs under control, Jas looked up again and her eyes brightened. "Flowers! You brought back so many!"

"I promised, didn't I?" She gave Shane a quick, questioning look as she approached the bed; he nodded quietly in response. No problems here. Nothing to report. Definitely no proof of illicit hot cocoa stowed away in his pocket. Returning the nod, Marnie shifted her focus fully to Jas. "Granny Evelyn insisted I bring you one of her favorite arrangements to help you feel better."

"They're so pretty!" Jas accepted the bouquet, burying her face in the flowers and inhaling deeply… and then sneezing. "Ew…"

Visibly stifling a chuckle, Marnie handed her a tissue. "Take it easy, sweetie."

For a minute, Shane just watched them, a small smile on his face. Then he turned and slipped back to his room. He was feeling warm, happy… and mentally exhausted, wound tight enough to snap. _Why_ did this have to be so hard? It was normal human interaction with someone he genuinely cared for, and it wore him out. Fuck's sake.

He needed a drink. A bunch of drinks, really, but one was a start. He grabbed a can and headed outside, leaning back against the door with a heavy sigh.

_I'm doing my best, I promise._

Days like this, it almost felt good enough… but tomorrow was another day.

* * *

The main path had finally been cleared. Kind of a bummer, really.

Alex was heading home late, with his suit jacket flung over his shoulder and a single flower from Haley's newest crown twirling between his fingers. He'd scouted a bit further into the forest once the dance was over. It wasn't all bad. There was plenty of overgrowth yet… there were just also nastier things like slimes and wolves and bears that might be lurking deeper in as well.

Tangling with a bear did not strike him as _bad_ practice for shaking a linebacker, exactly. It just also seemed more likely than not to be unhealthy, and having to heal up from getting literally mauled would be a serious setback to his routine.

Also, Granny would worry. Better skip that, then.

The sun was just starting to set, coloring the sky pink and orange, reflecting in the river beside the path. It was warm and still; the cool evening breezes of spring were giving way. Alex couldn't help grinning.

As he approached the turn, the lights of Marnie's ranch were coming into view. And not just lights, he noted as he got closer. Shane was standing by the door with a can of beer and a distant expression.

Should he say hello? He was in a good mood. Which was an excellent reason to be nice and say hello… and also an excellent reason to not _ruin it_ by saying hello. Dude was maybe not as much of a dick as he'd first thought, but he was definitely still… prickly.

As it so often did, the path of least resistance looked less appealing, so he trotted up to the door. "Hey, Shane."

For a moment, Shane just stared blankly at him. Then he lowered the can slowly. "Buh, you again?"

Eesh. "You know, you _could_ just say hello back."

"I could," he acknowledged, and took another drink. 

Alex felt like he probably should've seen that answer coming, truthfully. "Skipped the dance, huh?" He hadn't really thought about it until now, but he was quite certain this grump hadn't been present.

"Jas is sick. Had to watch her until Marnie got home." His eyes darted over the flowers in Alex's hair. "Looks like you had… fun?"

"Eh, it was fine. Haley won flower queen, that's the important thing." Shane nodded as though that made perfect sense, which was not the normal reaction to that statement. Maybe he figured it was like the egg hunt. Maybe he just didn't give a damn.

Okay, it was probably that.

Since he hadn't been told to go away, Alex leaned against the fence and looked out towards the river. A few pinpoints of light winked in the distance. "Hey, check it out. Fireflies already!"

"Buh… and?"

"Means they know what time of year it is too!" Shrug. "I always get pumped when the weather starts really warming up. You have any cool summer plans?"

The look he got in response could have frozen water in the harshest summer sunlight; he flinched reflexively, but shook it off. "It's just a season. Why would my plans change?"

"…Sun? Heat? Great sports weather?" _Just a season?_ What kind of weirdo didn't love summer, seriously? "Do you ever go to the beach?"

"No."

Of course he didn't. "There's nothing better than an energetic summer day on the beach, you know. It's the _best_ place to throw gridballs around. I think you should give it a try."

Shane gave him a sullen look that was becoming pretty familiar. "You're pushing it again, kid."

"Yeah, I'm pretty determined when I decide on something." He countered the glower with his brightest smile. "It'll be fun. You could use some of that, huh?"

"You realize we aren't friends, right?" If it was possible to drink beer grumpily, he was doing it. "Why do you think I need you harassing me about fun?"

The fact that they weren't friends had, in fact, not escaped him. But it didn't exactly feel like they were _not-friends_ anymore, either. And so far persistence had been paying off, so… "You haven't turned around and shut the door in my face yet?"

"I—" Shane fell silent, blinking through a haze that may or may not have been primarily alcohol. "…Fuck's _sake_ …"

Alex grinned.

Shane turned around, walked inside, and shut the door in his face.

…Okay, so that hadn't worked out quite the way he'd anticipated after all. "Be like that then," he muttered to the door, then shrugged and went back to his walk. Tomorrow was another day.


	7. Lost Time

Morning on the first day of summer found Alex swimming across the ocean channel, the tidal pools in his sights. He was a strong swimmer, and it wasn't a difficult task, physically. It didn't take long to reach the far beach.

He climbed back up onto the sand, setting the waterproof pack he was carrying down by a large branch of coral, and exhaled. The bridge hadn't always been broken. Since it had, this had become, well… not easier. It never seemed to become any easier. But at least he could be certain of being left alone, now…

He always began the summer with this little ritual. He owed it to his mom. To her memory.

Drying his hands off, he carefully—even reverently—pulled the music box out of his pack. Light wood and deep red enamel, with a pair of silver songbirds etched in. Though Alex wouldn't have called himself a great appreciator of artwork, he'd always thought it was beautiful; he remembered sneaking into her room to look at it when he was very young. Maybe just because it had been pretty _and_ forbidden. A secret treasure she'd kept.

It was a bittersweet reminder of the good and the bad. He'd seen her with it many times after his father stormed out of the house, opening it up and sobbing softly as the tinny melody played… he remembered those nights well. Too damn well. Curling up in his bed, listening to the yells and the dull _thumps_ , only daring to creep out of his room when he heard the front door slam. Watching her crying and tending the bruises, and not yet understanding…

It hadn't even been within his power to imagine that someday he would be here on the beach like this, shedding his own tears to the same song. But they were welling up as he opened the box, letting music drift over the coral and the pools.

That wasn't how he _wanted_ to remember her. But he always seemed to have to pay those thoughts their due before he could move on to happier things.

The summer…

She'd imparted her own love of summer on him. He remembered her smile so clearly as the season dawned. Remembering her in the backyard, working in the small garden of radishes and wildflowers she'd kept—she'd tended those radishes diligently, but never planted specific flowers herself. Waiting to see what would pop up was more fun, she'd said.

_"A garden is like a person. There are so many possibilities… why would I want to limit what could grow?"_

He hadn't fully understood that until she was long gone. But that was what she'd done for him, too. When he'd first gotten interested in gridball she'd encouraged him, even as his father heaped scorn on the idea. The few times she'd openly spoken against him had always been on Alex's behalf…

Things were supposed to get better after he left. For awhile they had. Those were the best memories of all. Playing catch in the backyard, helping her tend to the radishes, coming over to Pelican Town to visit his grandparents and play on the beach. When he looked over the tidal pools he could almost still see her, splashing him playfully as he scavenged for washed-up coral.

He'd thought things were finally perfect. And then she was gone.

The music box finished, and he closed it with a long sigh. Time to go. He couldn't just sit here and dwell on the past all day. For the rest of the summer he would honor her the best way he knew how. By working hard, succeeding in his goals, doing things that would make her proud.

It had to be enough…

He tucked the box away and sighed again, looking out over the water. "Thanks, Mom…"

The ocean rippled with the same answer as always. Silence.

* * *

The first weekend of summer, Shane flatly refused to show up for any gridball. He had preparations to make, and hell if he'd risk anything but perfection.

He'd missed Jas's birthday last year. Not even by accident. He'd still been in the city, and couldn't get work off. Not that Morris was going to give him work off either, but at least he lived here now. No saloon that night, that was for sure; his stash was replenished for after she went to bed, when he would definitely need something to take the edge off. He was ready.

Mostly. Except for the most important thing.

Presents were tricky. He couldn't afford anything too expensive… he'd had illusions of cutting back at the saloon to save more, but somehow it never seemed to work out that way. The new dolls she'd been excitedly talking about lately were right out.

Even in the middle of kicking himself for that failure, he'd had a spark of inspiration. Jas had largely stopped pouting about missing the flower dance, but she had come rushing into his room a couple of days ago to show off the new flower crowns she'd made for all her dolls out of construction paper and beads. It wasn't as if she only _liked_ that sort of thing around the dance. Missing it would just make his idea work somewhat better.

So, he needed some advice on flowers. And even he knew who in town to talk to about that. Which was what found him walking up the path to the Mullners' house, hoping Alex would be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He was _not_ in the mood.

No sign of him. Just his grandmother, sitting in a folding chair by a row of flower pots. Taking a break? Perfect.

Shane took a few moments to steel himself. He didn't like dealing with people at all; he _really_ didn't like dealing with people he couldn't tell to fuck off when he got too uncomfortable. Even he knew better than to tell the kindly old small-town granny lady to fuck off.

_It's for Jas. Suck it up_.

"Mrs. Mullner?"

She turned and squinted at him for a few moments. They'd really only ever spoken once; Marnie had introduced him on his first day in town. She'd told him he could call her Granny if he liked, which he certainly wasn't going to do, and beyond that their paths simply didn't cross.

"I'm so sorry dear, I know you're Marnie's nephew, but I can't quite recall your name… Shawn?"

"It's Shane," he said quietly, amused despite himself. Apparently it ran in the family.

"Oh, that's right." She nodded, shifting a little on her chair to face him. "How can I help you, dear?"

"I… need some advice about flowers?"

"Well, you've come to the right place!" she said with a smile. "What sort of advice? It makes me happy when you young folks take an interest in the flowers."

Oh, good, at least he'd made _someone_ around here happy for two seconds. "I want to make a flower crown for Jas, since she missed the flower dance." He shrugged weakly. "I don't even know where to start. I mean… summer just started, are there even flowers?"

"Oh, dear." She chuckled. "You're just in time for a good selection of spring flowers, in fact. The mayor always lets Pierre pull up the town flowerbeds when it's time to plant for a new season. It's only been a couple of days; he ought to have most of them still in stock. And you'll need some wire to hold them together, Clint carries that."

That sounded perfect. Well, other than the fact that Pierre hated him, but he was pretty used to that. "Are some flowers better than others?"

"You won't want to use the blue jazz; the blossoms are just so unwieldy. I always use tulips and daisies for the flower dance… does she have a favorite flower?"

"I know she loves fairy roses, but those… those are late fall, aren't they?" He had a vague recollection of her telling him that once.

Evelyn nodded wisely. "They are indeed. And you wouldn't want to make a whole crown from them, so many thorns to remove. But one would make a fine centerpiece… there _is_ a greenhouse up near Grampleton that grows them all year round. I used to make the trip up there often, but I'm afraid… oh, mayor!" she called out suddenly. Shane jumped, then turned; sure enough, Mayor Lewis was approaching from behind him. "What is the bus schedule from Grampleton these days?"

"Ah, Granny Evelyn! Shane." The mayor tipped his cap, mostly to her. Shane managed a mostly civil nod; he and Lewis had a mutual antipathy that had less to do with Shane's usual attitude towards people and more to do with the thinness of the wall between his bedroom and Marnie's. "The Grampleton bus runs on Wednesdays nowadays. Every two hours between ten and four."

"Wonderful! Thank you." She turned back to him. "Do you think you'll be able to get there, dear?"

…Hell. He froze up for a moment. There was no way in all Ferngill he was making that; Morris wouldn't even give him Jas's _actual birthday_ off, a trip to Grampleton to buy a flower was right out. But he didn't want to say no and seem ungrateful after taking up her time. He could hardly say yes, either—if he'd learned anything from television, it was that you did not lie to the kindly old small-town granny lady. That was only a step above telling her to fuck off, which he was _absolutely_ struggling against right now. This conversation had rapidly gotten away from him.

Finally he recovered his wits and hedged with, "I might be able to."

It had not been enough of a hedge. "Let me see if I can't help you with it. Your niece is such a sweet girl."

"Yeah, she is," he agreed, cracking a small smile. It lightened his mood a little. Enough that he followed her around the front of the house without really thinking about it… some part of his subconscious saw what was coming, but didn't have the decency to warn his conscious brain.

"Alex!"

Oh, no.

He came trotting around the side of the house, tossing a gridball between his hands, looking cheerful and confident for all of four seconds. Then he caught sight of Shane and tensed up. Just a little. "What's up, Grams?"

"This nice young man needs a fairy rose from the Grampleton greenhouse, but the bus schedule is so difficult. You aren't doing anything on Wednesday, are you? Couldn't you run to get it for him?"

Shane bit his lip. Hard. Part of it was being called a _nice young man_ , and part of it was the look on Alex's face. In fairness, those two things may have been related. Though from the outright _mortification_ there, he doubted it was the main component.

"Wh—what do you mean I'm not doing anything on Wednesday? I'm working out!"

_Pretty sure she meant anything important._ Shane managed to keep that to himself— _behave yourself around the nice granny lady!_ But he really did not want to owe anyone a favor if he could possibly avoid it, and Alex least of all. "It… it's alright, really. I'm sure I can get an afternoon off work, but thank—"

"—Oh nonsense, dear. Alex, it would only be a couple of hours. And you could use that bus ride to study! You're always saying you don't have enough opportunity…" She turned back to Shane and shook her head slightly. "Do you know Alex? Sometimes he worries me sick, but he's a good boy."

"We… we've met." _Why_ were people in this town so fucking friendly?

"Grams, you're _embarrassing_ me…" Alex's expression had settled into something like horrified resignation, which Shane was feeling pretty deeply himself right now. He turned to him and frowned. "Let me guess. Jas?"

"…Yeah."

Alex was quiet for a few moments, then gave a frustrated sigh. Apparently he couldn't think of any way out of this either. "Yeah, fine. I can do that."

His grandmother smiled. "That's a dear. It's so important to help out our neighbors when we can." She paused a moment, looking at her watch. "Ah! Pardon me a moment, it's time for my pills. Then I'll have some more advice for you." She stood and headed for the door, leaving the two of them staring at each other and wondering what the hell had just happened.

"You owe me so much catch," Alex muttered finally. "On the _beach_."

"This isn't _my_ fault," Shane retorted. But it was probably inevitable… "…Get a purple one and you'll get your damn beach."

"Deal."

* * *

Summer was not for bus rides. Summer was not for _books_. Summer was for long runs and workouts on the beach and being outside in the sun!

And yet.

Alex had _tried_ to study. He really had. He'd opened up _Principles of Natural Science, Grade 12_ and done his very best to remember the difference between a lysosome and a ribosome, and ultimately ended up staring out the window and sulking. It was no good. The words all seemed to blur together after a little bit, and trying to read in a moving vehicle made him queasy.

Studying made him queasy no matter where he tried it, really. He sighed. After high school he'd tried to take the acceptance exam for South Coast University, over in Zuzu. To make Granny happy, mostly. He hadn't done well… to no surprise of his own. It seemed to him the choice moving forward was simple. He could waste his time studying to fail the exam again, or he could spend that time preparing for the next time the Tunnelers opened tryouts. 

Sometimes he found himself wondering what his mom would think about his priorities. What she'd say, if he could ask her advice one last time. She'd be proud, wouldn't she? She'd always encouraged his dreams. He had to believe she'd approve…

Why did he always think of her when he was feeling uncertain? They were happy memories… or maybe that _was_ why. It was sure as hell better than— _no, don't think about—_

_—What's this? Mommy's little mistake has some homework? Already? Too stupid to do it in school, huh? What a big, fat surprise. Kind of like you!—_

_—Why_ did trying not to think about something always guarantee he would end up thinking about it? Alex scowled and hunched in the seat, trying to focus himself on the trees and fields blurring by. Studying? Hell with studying. Why would he want to reward his brain for being such an asshole?

_Damn you, Shane._

This really wasn't Shane's fault. That wouldn't stop Alex from blaming him; he couldn't be mad at Granny, after all. She was only looking out for him… she didn't know the spiral of doubt and anxiety he went into when studying didn't work out. Telling her would only worry her more. No need for that.

_I'll get through it. I'm strong_.

The relief when the bus finally pulled to a stop on the outskirts of Grampleton was _immense_. 

He'd been to the greenhouse a few times before, mostly when he was younger, helping to carry back flats of new flowers for the town gardens. It was a good memory too… as he entered, a wave of stifling heat and the scents of dozens of different flowers washed over him, and he paused a moment just to take it in. If he had to be here, he'd get what enjoyment he could out of it.

At least actually finding a purple fairy rose was easy enough. They seemed awfully expensive for a flower, even one that was out of season; Shane had given him pretty much just enough to cover it. Since he was there, he picked up a soft pink one for Granny. Maybe getting her a present would distract her from asking how the studying had gone.

He grinned at the cute girl working the register; she smiled back as she rang up the roses. "You want these wrapped? Helps with the thorns."

"Yeah, please." The last thing he needed was to poke holes in his hands doing this. Winking at her as she handed the flowers over, he headed out. Maybe it hadn't been _that_ bad. He still had plenty of time to get back home and get in most of his reps.

He looked at the paper around the purple fairy rose, adjusted it, and frowned slightly. Would wrapping the rose up be enough to make this delivery not be weird? It felt weird. Reasons aside, he was giving a _flower_ to another _guy_.

His father would've had some choice words about that, too…

_Nope. Heard enough from that dick today. Buzz off._

Alex was scowling again as he went back to the bus stop. At least he was going to get some catch on the beach out of this.

* * *

Whatever optimism Shane had about celebrating Jas's birthday lasted for a few days. It lasted long enough for him to fumble with removing the fairy rose's thorns, only stabbing himself a couple of times. Long enough for him to wind a mess of wire, daisies, and daffodils into a pretty decent-looking crown. Long enough to get him _to_ the day.

And that was the end of that.

It was like the universe knew how much he didn't want to be at work. Like he ever wanted to be at work, but today of all days. Sam wouldn't stop chirping about some band he was trying to form. Or at least, not until his shift ended… it was shortly _after_ that when a juice display in the front window had several bottles rupture from the heat. Shane's fault for putting them there, of course—never mind that he'd put them exactly where Morris said, right down to _in the sunlight for visibility_. 

He'd been in a foul enough mood to point that out, which had gotten him written up. A good Joja employee was supposed to accept criticism with grace and understanding. Whether there was a single shred of _validity_ wasn't part of the equation.

_Fuck Morris and fuck Joja_. That mantra—not an unusual one—stayed with him as he trudged out of the store and down the path, still seething. He was _trying_ to calm down. It just wasn't working.

It never worked.

_You knew better. Why would you talk back to him? Not like him being a tyrannical fuckstick is news. What are you gonna do if he fires you?_ When _he finally fires you? You know it'll happen eventually. It's the most mindless job possible and you'll still screw it up. That's what you do._

Shaking his head and trying to throw the mood off, he caught sight of the saloon up ahead. No. Not tonight. Not…

…Well…

…He did have about an hour, and he probably shouldn't go home in this state. Swearing under his breath about Morris was not proper birthday party behavior. Just a couple of beers would be okay. A good idea, even. Beer was a hell of a lot easier and more reliable than trying to negotiate his brain into behaving itself.

Part of him was fighting it. Part of him damn well knew better. But it seemed like his better judgment was always the first thing to be swallowed up when the abyss came calling.

He went inside.

Just entering the saloon made Shane slightly more comfortable. It was safe here—he'd snapped at enough people to keep them away. Dropping onto a stool in his usual corner, he signaled silently for a beer. Whatever was cheapest. He just needed _quiet_ in his own damn head.

The first sip was like a lifeline. All the anger and anxiety seething in his chest dulled before the burn of the alcohol. Just a little. It would take a hell of a lot more than that, but just the prospect of relief was reassuring. He hated that he had to do this, but… what could he do? It was what worked.

It felt like he'd barely started when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He was well conditioned to ignore that; nobody he actually wanted to hear from ever tried to get in touch with him. Okay, he never wanted to hear from anyone. But it was usually Morris—store policy was the only reason he still bothered to carry the thing in this town—and if he had to deal with that jackass right now he really _would_ get himself fired.

Another buzz. He ordered another beer. It was really starting to work now; he leaned back and drew a shallow breath, letting the merciful fog of intoxication wash over him. It didn't feel like his blood wanted to boil over anymore. He still felt like an idiot, but at least he was a calm idiot. Maybe another drink would stop him from kicking himself so much.

Maybe.

Maybe another…

His phone kept periodically buzzing, and it was grating more and more as the rest of the world dimmed. Finally he yanked it out of his pocket, glaring at it as the glow of the screen assaulted his eyes.

**Shane?**

**Are you almost home?**

**Shane, where are you? You promised you'd be here at seven.**

**I know you did not forget what today is!**

He stared at the messages, taking a moment to put the words together in his head. What was Marnie freaking out about? He'd only been here for… his gaze flickered to the clock, what time was it, anyway?

Eight. The number burned right through his bleary eyes and foggy thoughts, and his stomach seemed to drop out. "Fuck!"

_Are you fucking kidding with this, you miserable piece of garbage, did you really fucking—_

No, no, no. Answer first, bitch himself out later.

**TELL HER I HAD TO WORK LATE yell at me later don't let it hurt her more k omw**

Throwing some money on the table, he gave Emily the panicked half-wave that meant Jas emergency—they had a fucking _signal_ for it, how pathetic _was_ he? Then he bolted for the door and into the night, the usual furious recriminations pounding through his head.

_Fuck you._

_What the fuck is wrong with you._

_How fucking_ dare _you._

_How much better off would she be if she didn't have your bullshit to worry about?_

His mental snarling was disrupted only by periodic stumbles, a couple of falls. Shane was pretty adept at being drunk by now, but coordination at a full sprint was well beyond his talents. At least he wasn't feeling any pain—physically. But he was even more of a mess than he'd started as by the time he reached the ranch. He doubled over in the shop, gasping for breath, briefly grateful to Alex for making him run a bit more lately. At least he wasn't _completely_ dead on his feet.

"Shane?" Marnie's voice wasn't openly angry, but he recognized her _you have five seconds to answer or else_ tone just fine.

"Y… yeah… here… sorry…" He drew himself up and slumped against the counter instead, still struggling for oxygen that he definitely wasn't going to get. Not when Jas came rushing in with Marnie on her heels, stopping and looking up at him, her lower lip quivering slightly.

Damn it.

"Uncle Shane…?"

Breathe. He needed to breathe. He needed to apologize, fuck breathing. "I'm so sorry, Jas, I—" Looking down at her wide eyes he locked up briefly. He couldn't lie to her face. Not even to protect both of them… "I got held up by some jerk," he managed finally.

Marnie huffed. He silently dared her to argue the point.

"You promised," she said in a small voice, and he fought not to physically flinch.

"I know." He deserved it. He deserved that look of betrayal. He deserved every bit of this regret that was choking him. "I'm just… I'm not very good at promises these days, I guess. But I'm sorry, I really am…" Kneeling, he forced himself to look her in the eye—he wanted to hug her, but didn't dare. He was covered in dirt and smelled like beer. _Pathetic_. "Can you forgive me?"

It was not his first time begging her for forgiveness. He imagined it wouldn't be the last. Though the last would come, eventually. Sooner or later she'd come to understand he wasn't worth it… 

Today wouldn't be that day. "I can forgive you," she said softly, nodding, and he fought down too obvious a sigh of relief. "We already ate cake, but… Aunt Marnie, Shane can still have ice cream with us, right?"

Shane did not want ice cream. He already felt sick to his stomach. But he certainly wasn't going to say _that_ out loud. And Marnie, annoyed as she was with him, wouldn't really exacerbate things by refusing what Jas wanted. "Of course he can. And Shane, don't you have something in the fridge that you should be getting out, too?"

Oh. Right. He'd been so damn proud of himself. "Sure do," he agreed, trying for a cheerful tone as they headed to the kitchen. Jas's present had been living in the fridge for a couple of days, hidden behind a large carton of eggs—Mrs. Mullner had advised him to keep the flowers chilled to preserve them.

Maybe it could make up for his latest screwup… a little.

He opened the fridge, found the box, and cracked the lid open to make sure it was still actually there. The state he was in now, maybe he'd imagined the whole damn thing. Breathing a sigh of relief as he saw several petals, he closed it back up and turned to her with a weak grin. "Happy birthday, kiddo."

He'd probably have deserved the skeptical look she gave him even if he _hadn't_ been late. But she took the box, doubt giving way to curiosity. And as she opened up the box and squealed with joy, even Marnie's scowl softened. A little bit.

_Stay of execution_.

"Uncle Shane, it's so pretty! …How did you get a fairy rose in the summer?" 

_Selling my soul to some kid who's obsessed with gridball?_ Okay, maybe that was _slightly_ overdramatic. "That's a secret." He managed a somewhat more genuine grin, though it wavered as she put the crown on and smiled brilliantly at him.

It should make him happy that she was happy… but all he could think about was how he didn't deserve that smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for reference, I know I said in the tags I'm not counting, but I _kind of_ am—a year in SDV is a little less than a third of a real year, so I'm more or less multiplying the time between significant dates by three.
> 
> Thanks so much for the kudos and comments, all! <3


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